The Bachelor's Baby
by Naydriel
Summary: New Chapter! Night sandwich anyone?
1. Prologue

Author's Note-This is a new story that I am starting and this will be one that I will finish. So please enjoy and don't forget to leave a comment [review] in the end. It will be greatly appreciated. If you get confused or have any questions let me know. Oh yes, one more thing, if you believe I need to have my work checked and you want to be a beta reader for me please leave a comment in the end with your email address or email me about it.  
  
Thank You.  
  
The Bachelor's Baby  
  
Prologue  
  
Trunks Briefs couldn't take his eyes off her. She had arrived late for the christening, caught in one of the showers that had been chasing across the valley all day, and as she walked towards him a sudden shaft of sunlight lit up the raindrops that clung to her.  
  
They sparkled against the sliver-gray velvet cloak that swirled around her ankles. Sparkled on the bouquet of flowers she was carrying. Sparkled on the long dark lashes that curtained her beautiful eyes.  
  
Then she pushed back the wide hood of her cloak and the sun, slanting through the stained glass of the old church, lit up the short, elfin cut of her pale blonde hair.  
  
The baby, nestling in his mother's arms, whimpered restlessly and the newcomer leaned over, touched his cheek. "Hello, gorgeous." she cooed softly, in a voice liked melted chocolate, the infant's complaint was immediately transformed into a smile.  
  
And the she looked up, straight into his eyes, and repeated the soft, "Hello". Even without the 'gorgeous' tag, he felt the same instant desire to grin as she offered him a slender hand. "I'm Marron Chestnut."  
  
"And you must be Trunks Briefs. Bra and Goten have told me all about you." She added as she looked at me.  
  
"Whatever Bra and Goten have told you—" he bit back the denial as he remembered where he was "—is probably true."  
  
"Really?" The corners of her mouth tucked into a small, teasing smile as she titled her head thoughtfully to one side. "I wonder. So few people live up—or down—to their reputations."  
  
Even as he struggled to remind himself that he was in a church, godfather to the infant about to be baptised and with no business to be thinking the kinds of thoughts that were racing through his head, she turned away to kiss Bra, the baby's mother and his baby sister, and apologise for her lateness.  
  
"I notice these bluebells in the orchard as I was leaving. They're just the color of Ben's eyes so I stopped to pick some." She explained as she took baby Ben from Bra. The vicar ushered them towards the front and Trunks thought he must have imagined the spark of something hot and sweet that had crossed the space between himself and Marron. An unspoken promise that said...'Not now. Later.'  
  
As if she had read his mind, Marron Chestnut lifted her long lashes and sent a sideways glance at him. In this instant he noticed her eyes weren't the baby blue he had though them to be. They were cerulean and ocean deep and he was suddenly out of his depth and floundering. It was a unfamiliar sensation and every instinct warned him that should head for the door while he still had the chance. Though he had made a promise to his best friend and sister; to stand as godfather to their first child and escape was not an option he could take.  
  
Yet all through the service Trunks was distracted by the scent of the flowers she carried. It wove a spell through his mind so that all through the tea that followed, and the champagne and the toasts to baby Ben's health and happiness, he was intensely aware of her presence shimmering on the edge of his consciousness. Once the photographs has been taken, and escape was possible, they had circled the company, keeping maximum distance between them as id by a unspoken agreement, understanding that to be close was to risk instant conflagration.  
  
But when he had glanced in her direction he had the feeling that he had just missed meeting her gaze. Or maybe it was simply his imagination working overtime. Maybe. Yet without a word spoken, without a gesture or so much as a lift of a brow, they had arrived at the door at the same time, ready to leave.  
  
"Hold on Marron, its raining again," Goten said, as he walked them to the door. "You'll get wet in your broomstick. I'll run you home."  
  
"Broomstick?" Trunks repeated, turning to risk the heat of her dangerous eyes.  
  
And for the first time, since she'd arrived in the church. Marron met his gaze head-on. "Goten thinks I'm a witch." She should have been smiling, but she wasn't. "Don't you, Goten?" she asked, but her eyes continued to hold Trunks a prisoner.  
  
Goten hesitated, and she tilted her head back and laughed, her throat, a perfect white curve that Trunks' hand ached to cradle. Then Bra called from the nursery and Marron said, "You're needed, Goten."  
  
"Yes, but..."  
  
"I'll take Marron home," Trunks offered.  
  
"You're quite sure? It's way out of your way..."  
  
"Quite sure indeed." He'd been going that way ever since Marron had look at him. Maybe Goten was right. Maybe she was a witch.  
  
"Oh. Right. Well, thanks... And thank you for today. Both of you. Give us a call when you get back from the States, Trunks. Come and stay." Then almost as an afterthought, Goten added, "And take care."  
  
They paused on the doorstep and there was a moment of silence while Marron, her eyes level with his, regarded him thoughtfully. "You're quite sure?" she asked after a moment, echoing Goten's words. He knew she wasn't talking about the lift.  
  
Neither was he when he replied, "Quite sure." Trunks led the way to his car and opened the door. Her cloak trailed over the edge and he bent to lift it, tuck it inside. The material was soft, sensual beneath his fingers. Silk velvet. Like a woman's skin. Maybe that was why his hands were shaking as he slid the key into the ignition. "Which way?" He asked abruptly.  
  
"Left." He glanced at her. "I live on the other side of the village. It's not far."  
  
Not far, but it was a different world. Goten and Bra's home was minimalist modern, a labour-saving miracle of architecture designed for busy people and set in a low maintenance courtyard garden with a small paddock beyond that was grazed by a neighbor's elderly pony.  
  
Marron, in total contrast, lived in a piecrust cottage surrounded by an old- fashioned garden filled with spring flowers bloomed with wild abandon. They spilled over onto the brick paths, splattering their legs with raindrops as they ran for the door.  
  
Once they'd reached the shelter of the pitch-roofed porch they paused for a breath. And to look at one another. Take a moment to consider. Nothing had been said, but they both knew once he was beyond the front door all thoughts that were now safely in their heads would spill over into unstoppable action: there would be no stepping back.  
  
It was as if she was saying, 'You're quite sure?' again. But this time silently. His own silence was all the answer she needed. And she held out her key to him. It hung there between them, shimmering dull sliver in the stormy light, and at the back of Trunks' warning bells began to ring.  
  
"I don't do commitment," he said roughly. Almost hoping that she would tell him to go. Leave. Get out.  
  
She didn't say any of those things. She said nothing, her aqua eyes holding his, demanding that he make his own decision about whether to go or stay. The warning bells clanged with desperate urgency but all afternoon her eyes silently promised him everything he had ever wanted from a woman. Promised that she would fulfil his every dream.  
  
She was wasting her time. He had no dreams. He was a hollow man, rich in the stuff money could buy, but without a heart, incapable of love.  
  
Most of the time he lived with it, scarcely noticing the emptiness. Today wrapped in the warmth of friends whose love for each other, whose happiness had reached new heights with the birth of their baby son, he had been painfully aware of his own shortcomings.  
  
Marron Chestnut was offering him a chance to forget, lose himself for a few hours, without a word he gathered in the key and woman in one movement. For a moment he simply held her, breathed in her scent of rain-washed earth and wallflowers and bluebells. For a moment anything seemed possible.  
  
Fantasy, he knew, but his mouth came down on hers with a deep hunger, a longing to be proved wrong... 


	2. First Month Part 1

Authors Note- I know I have a few things to explain, well more than a few. I will explain a few things in a moment. But before that I must warn you that NOT to expect updates to be put up as early as this one. I have spent the entire day with this. The only reason it is up so quickly is because I am on holiday and have nothing else to do. Anyone who has read my earlier stories will know that I take my time to update chapters and that reviews are a great because they urge me to type faster and more.  
  
Now to explain a few 'teeny tiny' things =  
  
Marron and Trunks had never met before until Ben's christening in the last chapter.  
  
Trunks is, like in all stories, a non-committing man and a business tycoon.  
  
Bra and Goten are married with a newborn baby boy, Ben.  
  
The town-center [in the village Bra, Goten and Marron live in] is a small business place for tradesmen.  
  
Marron rents her 'shop space' from Goten, who obviously owns it.  
  
6.) NOBODY'S parents will be mentioned in the entire story, except Ben's parents, [Bra and Goten]  
  
And now my lovely Reviewers-  
  
Kawaiisempai – Thank you a million for the long review. I just love reading reviews and reading exactly what you thought of it. It tells me what I can and should improve. Thank you for stating that the characters seemed deep and meaningful. With most of my other stories I start of well but then they seem to drift off. I'll let you on a little secret, I have the next few chapters already written out on paper, it just needs to be typed up. So now you know that I am actually planning, unlike my other stories.  
  
Carmen- You wanted to read more of this story well here is the next chapter. [I just love stating the obvious ^_^ ]  
  
Starry-Eyes888- Thank you for your lovely comment about my writing.  
  
funky mujnky – Chapter number two is here for all to read, so enjoy and don't forget to leave a review. ^_~  
  
Legolas Luver – Well I've updated and I hope the little points at the top helped you out and have made 'unlost'. If not then feel free to ask any question related to why you may be lost and I will try my best to answer it well.  
  
Thank you my adorable reviewers. This chapter is dedicated to you wonderful people. ^_^  
  
*Passes virtual cookies to wonderful reviewers*  
  
Chapter Number – 1.1  
  
First Month- The pregnancy will not have been confirmed yet, but many women, however, feel pregnant without knowing quite why.  
  
Marron didn't need the test to confirm what her body was already telling her. What, in her mind, she already knew, had known from the moment when the early-morning sun had turned the world gold in a moment of pure magic.  
  
She had known even before that.  
  
She'd known how it would be in that first second when Trunks had turned and watched her approaching him. Known that this was the man she'd been waiting for. That this was the moment.  
  
Afterwards, Trunks had held her, and although he'd said nothing she had known that he, too, had felt something way beyond his expectations of a casual encounter with a woman he'd made it clear that he was making no promises to see ever again. But she'd looked into his cerulean-blue eyes and seen something beyond the moment. She had seen fear, too.  
  
He was afraid of this. Not just of giving, but receiving love.  
  
She smiled as she waited, remembering. He had given generously. Far more than he'd intended to. Now, maybe, she'd have to convince him that it was enough. Which might be difficult... For both of them.  
  
She glanced impatiently at her watch. Despite her certainty, she'd left her assistant to close up the shop and rushed home, impatient for chemical proof, to be reassured that hope and imagination weren't simply working overtime.  
  
And now it was taking all her will-power not to star at the little plastic wand, willing the blue line to appear and make it official.  
  
The time waiting for the result of the test seemed far longer than the two weeks since Trunks had left her bed. Said goodbye with a kiss that had somehow lingered and, in that golden dawn, had deepened and erupted into something else entirely before he'd dragged himself back to reality and raced away to catch a plane without so much as a 'I'll call you' or 'I'll see you' to suggest he'd be back. She'd expected nothing else. Not from Trunks.  
  
He had warned her. He did not pretend.  
  
Lying alone in the warm nest of her bed, listening as he'd moved swiftly through the cottage, snapped the door shut behind him as if to convince himself of the finality of his departure, he's sped away from her, she had wondered what made him so afraid.  
  
Wondered what had happened in the past to send him racing away from the warmth of a woman's arms, even when he'd plainly longed to stay.  
  
Cross with herself for standing there, waiting for the test to develop, she put the wand down on the edge of the bath. She didn't need it. She had better things to do.  
  
She opened the door to the small front bedroom she'd been using as an office. Her hand briefly touched her waist. She'd be working from home more in the future; she'd need her little office.  
  
The other spare room was stacked with stock from her shop. Boxes of handmade soaps, scented candles, essential oils. She'd have to rent more space from Goten, she decided as she looked about her, run her mail-order business from the craft center.  
  
She'd have to totally reorganize the shop, too. It was time to promote Vicki, give her more responsibility, and take on someone else part-time. She was going to need help. A lot more help. A sudden tremor of doubt shivered through her. Suppose she couldn't cope on her own?  
  
For a moment her hand touched her waist. No, not on her own. Never again on her own. Her baby might be no bigger than a match-head, there might be nothing yet for the world to see, but inside her something amazing was happening. Already her baby had a backbone, a primitive heart...  
  
The low afternoon sun was shining in through a window that overlooked the rear garden. Yes, this would make a perfect nursery. She could see it already... had the colors picked out in her mind.  
  
And she stopped being cool and serious and totally in control and rushed back to the bathroom.  
  
Yes!  
  
Her hand was shaking as she snatched up the tester. A blue line. Did it mean it was a boy? No, no. Stupid. Of it wasn't a boy. She was going to have a girl. She and Trunks were going to have a baby girl.  
  
Her legs suddenly went wobbly and she clutched at the sink and lowered herself onto the edge of the bath.  
  
She was pregnant.  
  
It wasn't just a feeling anymore; it was something she 'knew'. It was a fact. Not just some airy notion that couldn't, shouldn't be true. Trunks wasn't a man to take risks. But that last time something extraordinary had happened and neither of them had thought of anything but a deep and desperate need to be held, to be loved. Without limitation, reservation, conditions attached.  
  
And now there was a baby, his baby, their baby, growing inside her. A life begun. A totally, seriously truth.  
  
A smile forced its way across her face, erupting into disbelieving laugh that faded as quickly as it had come.  
  
Falling in love with Trunks Briefs had not been a good move. Head-over- heels-at-first-sight falling in love was never a good idea, especially not with a man who'd made a point of explaining his attitude towards commitment before he had stepped into her threshold.  
  
But it had been too late then.  
  
She'd tried. She'd known it was pointless, but she'd made an effort and really tried. After that first moment when their hands had touched and their gazes had locked and all kinds of incredible sensations had made concentration on anything else very, very difficult, she'd kept her distance. Kept the length of the room between them. She'd sensed that he was doing the same thing, unnerved by the certainty that their fates were inextricable linked.  
  
Yet they had both arrived at the door at the same times, ready to leave. If they had planned it, it couldn't have been better timed.  
  
The only comfort was that he didn't know she was in love with him. Men distrusted that kind of emotional bull. Not that he'd have believed her anyway. Id she'd used the 'L' word, Trunks would have panicked, and become certain that she'd cling. If she weren't very careful, he'd see the baby was an attempt to entrap him.  
  
Marron laid the flat of her palm against her stomach. No. He never must feel that. If he came back it must be because he wanted to. Because nothing would stop him.  
  
She knew he would try to stay away.  
  
He'd found it too difficult to leave her not to recognize the danger. He'd driven away from her cottage as if the hounds of hell were on his tail. Which was, she decided, promising. It suggested certain unease, a fear saying he 'didn't do commitment' would be enough.He;HHHuihfviuvr  
  
He was mistaken. It would be. If he wanted it that way. It was his decision.  
  
She'd have to tell him about the baby, though. Before he heard it from someone else. She had three or maybe four months' grace, but after that it would be difficult to hide the fact that she was pregnant, and Goten had seen them leave together, had been aware of the tension between them.  
  
His parting 'Take care' had been loaded with apprehension... As if he would have protected each of them from the other, but had sensed the attempt futile.  
  
But once Goten knew about the baby it wouldn't put a strain on his powers of deduction to put two and two together and come up with the date of Ben's christening.  
  
The phone began to ring and she let the thought go. She had plenty of time before she had to worry about Trunks' reaction to fatherhood. He was in America, would be gone for weeks. He'd stressed that. As if he needed to reinforce the message. So, she had ages to work out the best way to break the news to him.  
  
Just for the moment it was here secret, and she planned to keep it that way.  
  
Then, as she headed for the door, she realized she was still holding the plastic spill. Even as her hand moved towards the waste-bin she discovered she was totally incapable of throwing away the precious evidence of her baby's existence. Instead she placed it into a little glass jar which she placed upon the bathroom windowsill and then she withdrew to deal with her call. 


	3. First Month Part 2

> Author's Notes- My sincere apologies for not updating sooner. I have so many things to do and I have not gotten around to doing any at all. Like Mother's Day is tomorrow and I have a million cards to send to my Godmothers and caregivers. AND they live overseas so its not like the card will be there tomorrow. So as you can tell I have been unable to do anything since school started, even the most important things have not been done.  
  
Thank you reviewers, I had fun reading that really long review, sorry I am not connected to the net as I write this so I can't remember the name that was used, but you know who you are and thankyou.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Chapter- 1.2  
  
"Trunks? Are you happy with that?"  
  
Trunks had been miles away. Thousands of miles away. His body might be sitting in a boardroom in downtown New York, but his mind was on the other side of the Atlantic. Suddenly he could not shake Marron Chestnut out of his head.  
  
He'd done a pretty good job of it during the last moth. He wasn't quite sure why, but he sensed it would be a wise idea to forget around her.  
  
Okay, so he hadn't been able to totally erase the searing memory of the way they'd been together. But working hard on setting up a partnership with an American telecommunications company whose CEO had been determined to give him the VIP treatment had made it relatively easy---or, if not easy, at least possible--- to push Marron at the back of his mind.  
  
But now, sitting with their massed lawyers hammering out the final details, nailing down any loose ends, all he could think of was the scent of bluebells and rain on warm English soil, a woman's touch that had seemed to reach down into his soul.  
  
What on earth had possessed him? They'd been at a christening, for heaven's sake! He was the baby's godfather!  
  
Was that it? An atavistic yearning for fatherhood sending him over the edge? No way! He enjoyed being Ben's godfather, but that was as close to fatherhood as he ever intended to get.  
  
It was why he was so careful to choose his partners with a detachment that bordered on coldness. He didn't walk, he ran from any possibility of emotional entanglements. He kept his relationships uncomplicated, the kind he could walk away from without as much as a backward glance.  
  
Love was too easy to say, yet too hard to mean. Unfortunately for him, he had learned that the hard way.  
  
The only person in the world who'd ever been there for him had been his foster mother. Aunt Lucy was a great lady and he owed her a lot, would be grateful to her until his dying day, but he still knew, deep down, that it wasn't him she cared for.  
  
She opened her heart to any needy child, or puppy, or kitten that hadn't got anywhere else to go. He had been just one of dozens through the years. She was kind, warm-hearted, and totally honest. It was in her nature to take in the heart-sore strays, put them back on their feet, head them in the right direction and dispatch them into the world. She'd done it for him, saved him from the kind of trouble a hurting youth could all too easily submit to, but he wasn't fooling himself. It hadn't been personal.  
  
And observing Aunt Lucy had taught him the wisdom of keeping a certain protective distance between himself and the risk of pain. Only someone you loved could hurt you.  
  
With Marron Chestnut alarm bells had rung right on cue, every instinct warning him to stay away. And he had kept his distance. But they had still arrived at the door together as if the had planned it. Maybe she had. Maybe Goten was right. Maybe Marron had looked at him with those enchanting eyes and bewitched him. Nothing else could explain the way he was feeling. Nothing else could account for the fact he couldn't get her out of his mind.  
  
"Trunks? Do we have a deal?"  
  
He dragged himself back to the air-conditioned chill of the boardroom, looked around the table at the men waiting for his decision and realized that he hadn't heard a word anyone had said for the last ten or so minutes. Not a great way to do business. Not the way he did business.  
  
Standing up, he closed the folder in front of him and said, "Thanks for your time, gentlemen. I'll let you know."  
  
Before anyone had registered that the meeting was over, Trunks was out of the room and using his cell-phone to book himself the next flight back to London.
> 
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> 
> [Please hold onto your seats, as we make a quick return to watch the blonde in action]
> 
> * * *
> 
> Marron was working in the garden when she heard footsteps coming around the cottage. She looked up and smiled as she saw Bra Son pushing baby Ben along the path in his new, all-terrain buggy.  
  
"Wow! Fancy wheels you got there, Ben!"  
  
"A present from a doting grandpa," Bra said, almost displaying a exact copy of the Famous-Son-Family-Grin.  
  
A grandpa. Her baby wouldn't have a grandpa or even a grandma. Not even an aunt to call her own. "Lucky Ben," Marron said softly.  
  
"Am I interrupting something vital?" Bra asked, look at the half-dug trench. "Only I haven't seen you since the christening." She paused, as if waiting for Marron to offer some exciting reason behind her lack of sociability.  
  
"It is that long?" she hedged. As if she hadn't counted every hour, every day of four long weeks, waiting for Trunks to return—The last two searching for the perfect words to break the news of his impending fatherhood. "The garden seems to take up every spare minute of this time of the year."  
  
"Yes, well, I'm here to interrupt you. It's such a lovely evening, I thought I'd give the buggy a test run on the terrain's while Goten grabs dinner for us. Catch up with gossip and with some luck get a cup of tea into the bargain?"  
  
Marron jabbed her spade into the soft earth and joined her visitors on the path. The baby was lying beneath the canopy shading him from the sun, a little tuft of fair hair sticking up on his forehead. He was gorgeous. Perfect. Without thinking her hand flew to her waist where her own baby was growing, unseen, unknown.  
  
"It's lovely to see," she said, snatching off her gardening gloves before Bra had a chance to register the giveaway gesture, hoping that the flash of heat in her cheeks would be put down to nothing more than exertion. She wasn't ready to share her news yet. Not even with her closest friend, Bra. Not until she told Trunks. "I've been meaning to drop by," she said quickly, "but I've been reorganizing the shop, and if I don't get my beans in now...." Leaving a summer bereft of the delights of homegrown runner beans to her friend's imagination, she took the handle of the buggy and began to push it towards the door. "But I'm ready for a break. Come on inside so I can wash my hands and give this angel a cuddle." She said as she turned her back to Ben and Bra, washing her hands.  
  
Ben began to fidget and his face became crumpled, and as soon as he had began to fidget a smile formed upon his face as he looked up at the women. Bra bent over him and picked him up. "Er, I think I better change him before you get too close, Marron."  
  
"Do you need a hand?" Had she sounded too eager? Too keen? "Not that I know one end of a baby from another," she added quickly.  
  
"It's a sharp learning curve, believe me," Bra said, wrinkling her nose. "Maybe you should start with something less demanding."  
  
"Maybe you're right. Maybe I should just go and put the kettle on. You know where the bathroom is. Help yourself." 
> 
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> 
> Author's Note- Hope you guys enjoyed that. Please review. If any question have formed within your heads please don't hesitate to ask. And once again my sincere apologies for the late update.


	4. First Month Part 3

_Author's Note: I'm so very sorry about this long overdue update, hate to make excuses, but I've been extremely busy, we've just had mid-year exams and I have a big assessment due in this week and next week. I think I have two this week. So as you can see I have been very busy. But just yesterday or the day before, I received another review and it just made my day so I got up first thing this morning to update the story, and when I say first thing I mean first thing. Anyway my sincere apologies._

_Note to reviewers-_

_1- Hopefully there is a lot more of convo's happening in this chapter. I remember someone saying that the people needed to communicate more._

_2- Someone asked if I was a virgo, and yes i am, how did you know? is it on my profile page?_

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**The Bachelor's Baby**  
  
Chapter One; Part Three

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"Trunks! What a surprise. Come on in." Goten watched as Trunks paid off the taxi and then continued, "I thought you were in the US."  
  
"I was. Until last night." His bag was at his feet and he was holding a small carrier. "I bought this for Ben."  
  
"And you've come straight from the airport? It must have been something special." Goten took the carrier and glanced downwards at the contents, looking up he said, "A teddy?"  
  
"It's an American teddy." Trunks realized that as a reason for his dash from the airport it was pretty feeble. He couldn't think what had possessed him to buy it. Except he'd seen it sitting there, in the airport shop, while he'd been waiting for his flight to be called and he thought... 'Press its paw and it plays Yankee Doodle.'  
  
He couldn't remember why it had seemed like a good idea at the time. He didn't do fluffy toys. He didn't see the point to them. He was down-to- earth, practical man who'd given his new godson blue chip stock for his christening. After all, what use was a sliver mug? It would just make-work and collect dust.  
  
Goten took out the bear, regarded the stars-and-stripes bow tie and waistcoat and grinned. "It was a great idea if it brought you down to see us." the welcome was warm, and if he wasn't totally convinced by the reason for the visit he kept his thoughts to himself. "Bra will love him."  
  
"Great." Trunks practically cringed with embarrassment. What on earth was he doing?  
  
"Well don't stand on the doorstep, man. If you've just flown back from the states then you must be fit to drop."  
  
"No, I'm intruding. I should have rung first..." Trunks stopped, suddenly unsure of himself. He didn't do stuff like this, drop in unannounced, buy toys. Let his attention wander in meetings.  
  
"Nonsense. Bra's taken Ben for a walk, but she won't be long and she will be thrilled to bits to see you. And since she'll insist you stay, you might as well take your bag upstairs right now. You know the way."  
  
Trunks dragged a hand over his face. "You're quite sure?" He frowned as the words echoed in his head, as if someone had said them a moment before. "I don't know why I came, I should have gone straight home-----"  
  
Again Goten's look suggested he was fooling himself. Again he tactfully kept his thoughts to himself. "Trunks, you are a friends and you are welcome within our home anytime. Why don't you grab a shower while I put some coffee on? Are you hungry? Or can you wait until dinner?"  
  
"A shower and coffee, sounds perfect."  
  
"Ten minutes?"  
  
"Goten—" Goten, heading for the kitchen, paused and looked back. On the point of asking about Marron, asking how she was, Trunks stopped himself. "Nothing. Just thanks."  
  
"Sure. Take your time."  
  
He picked up his bag, carried it up to the guest bedroom and wasted no time getting under the shower. He should be tired. Instead he felt fired up, excited, eager as a puppy fresh from a nap. He switched the shower to cold and stood there while he counted to a hundred. Slowly. It made no difference.  
  
He wandered back into the bedroom, running the towel through his hair as he gazed over the fields at the back of the house. From the window he could see Bra hurrying along the footpath, pushing Ben in his buggy, eager to get home.  
  
Marriage, families. He was a puzzled spectator, unable to understand why it worked for some people. It was as if he had a vital piece missing. As if, somewhere inside him, a light hadn't been switched on.  
  
Marron Chestnut had switched on something, though. This was new. This eagerness. And the warning bells clanged more loudly, warning him that he should have stayed on the other side of the Atlantic until the feeling had passed.  
  
As he turned from the window, pulled on a shirt and a pair of chinos, he heard Bra come in through the back door.  
  
"Goten! I'm home." Home. The word sliced through him like a knife-blade. He had a penthouse apartment that had cost telephone numbers overlooking the Thames, furnished by someone whose job it was to save him the bother of having to think about it. His penthouse was a showpiece. It was hardly a home. "Where are you? You won't believe what I've got to tell you."  
  
He heard her go into the kitchen, her voice dropping as she found Goten. He shouldn't have come. It had been a mistake, he thought, as he let himself out of the bedroom.  
  
"I'm telling you it's true, Goten. There's no mistake." He paused on the stairs as Bra's voice rose again. "Marrron's pregnant."  
  
It was like stepping of a cliff.  
  
"Bra..." Goten's voice was a sharp warning, but she didn't appear to notice.  
  
"Up you come, sweetheart," she said, picking up Ben before rattling on. "She had that little--- you know, the little plastic thing from the pregnancy test. I went upstairs to change Ben and it was there...right there in a pot on the windowsill in her bathroom." She laughed. "I did that, too. You teased me about it but I couldn't bear to throw it away. I needed to see it every day just to remind myself it was true..." Trunks wasn't sure how he had descended the remainder of the stairs. "the blue line was a bit fuzzy but there isn't any doubt about it."  
  
"Did you say anything to her?"  
  
"No, of course not. She'll tell me, when she is ready and I'll act as surprised as anything." Trunks stood in the kitchen doorway and watched Bra, pink-cheeked with excitement from hurrying home with her news, she blew into Ben's neck, making him giggle. A charming scene of domesticity that he saw but had no way of understanding. "The thing I can not work out is who the father could be. She's not a woman to make a mistake, so it must have been planned, but I didn't know she'd been involved with anyone recently...."she looked up, as if sensing something. "Goten?"  
  
Goten was looking right at him. He didn't need to guess who the father was of Marron's baby. He knew.  
  
Bra, suddenly realising they were not alone, spun around. "Trunks! I didn't see your car. It great to see you again. Are you staying?"  
  
"I...um..." he couldn't speak. Couldn't find his voice to say the words. This couldn't be happening.  
  
"Trunks is staying." Goten said, helping him out. "But I think right now Trunks has something he needs to do. Why don't we go and put Ben to bed, hmm?"  
  
Her forehead creased as she latched on to the sudden tension, her gaze switching between Goten and Trunks and then it clicked. For a moment she had trouble keeping her lower lip from hitting the floor, until with supreme effort at self-control, she said, "Good plan."

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_Author's Note: So what did you guys think? I took me a while to figure out how he was going to find out. I though the whole Marron telling him has been over used a bit.  
  
Anywho, you guys know the drill, first the reading then the reviewing. _


	5. First Month Part 4

Authors Note- Hi ducks as pillows and shoes fly at her I'm so sorry it has taken so long for me to update this. But I just couldn't type, please forgive. I will try to get one more update up in the next week but I am not promising anything. My next few updates will not done for a while, due to final exams, which I will need to study for. Anywho, a few things to be noted before the story, or next installment of the story.

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Reviewers- Thank you for your kind and wonderful reviews, I love them all.

Kawaiisempai – I love your reviews! They are long and so well written. I just enjoy reading them. Thank you heaps for your wonderful comments.

Carmen – You wanted to read more so here is the fourth installation of my story. Enjoy!

Starry-Eyez888 – Thank you for your kind comments, and I hope you enjoy the following update.

funky munky – when I first saw this name I thought maybe it was funky monkey, but oh well, name doesn't matter as long as you enjoy my stories. LoL.

Legolas Luver – I also love your reviews, and I'm happy I could help and find you from being lost during the first chapter. - I know you suggested more frequent updates, but I'm not good with having responsibility and having responsibility over this story s one BIG responsibility.

pure hatred – Don't we all wish we could have him!

Rose Garden – Okay! I LOVE you! You are the reason I got writing. It was your last review, which you made on the second chapter that pushed me to write. And thank you for that. hugs

mistica – Well I am trying to continue, please enjoy!

Isabella54 – Thank you for your beautiful comments, btw, very beautiful name.

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Dedication – this chapter is dedicated to all my beautiful reviewers. But please do give Rose Garden some credit because if it wasn't for her reminded review a few days ago I would not have started writing this chapter. Thank you!

Rose Garden 2004-09-19 2Signed

come on hon, finish the story... hug

Now I have kept you away from the story long enough, please enjoy and if you have any questions to do be afraid to ask.

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The Bachelors Baby

Chapter One; Part Four

Trunks pushed open the gate and paused. After a quick look around he noticed the garden had changed while he had been away. The bluebells had faded and turned a beautiful shade of lilac, thick blossom, scented the air and a blackbird was signing from a high perch in an apple tree.

A magnificent black feline blinked its sleepy yellow eyes at him from a patch of catnip. In a sudden his ear pricked up at the melodic lullaby that floated towards him from the rear of the cottage.

He refused to succumb to such seductive enchantment. He wasn't enchanted. He was mad, mad as hell,, and Marron was about to hear all about it. He found her wielding a spade with an easy competence that suggested long practice; her gardening skills were clearly not confined to picking flowers.

She was wearing thick cord trousers and heavy boots that contrasted with the femininity of a broad-brimmed straw hat that shaded her face. And she wore a man's shirt. What man?

She stopped and rubbed her sleeve across her cheek causing a streak of dirt to line her cheek. The sight squeezed the breath from his lungs, and soon the shirt was forgotten. Should she be working like this? Digging?

'Should you be doing that?' he demanded harshly.

'If I want homegrown beans on my dinner plate, then yes.' She replied easily, no trace of surprise in her voice. 'But if you are volunteering, please be my guest.' She pushed the spade into the rich soil and stepped back, turning towards him. He needed, wanted to see into her eyes; her straw hat kept her face covered and her feelings hidden. But her voice caught him, drawing him closer.

Trunks' voice was hard, angry. Marron had heard him open the gate, walking around the cottage, and had recognized his footsteps that were last heard racing away from her.

She'd forced herself to carry on working, leaving him to speak first, even though she longed to leap up, fling herself into his arms and pull him inside the house so that she could show him just how pleased she was to see him, hoping he was feeling the same hot surge of excitement, desire. She felt raw, unbridled pleasure that he'd returned to her.

For a moment he took a step closer, as if he felt the same sensations, but then he stopped. The sun was low at his back and his face was shadowed so that she couldn't see his expression. Which was perhaps a good thing, if it matched his voice.

'I thought you were still in America,' she said, when the silence grew too long.

'I was. Now I'm back. Should you be doing that?' he repeated. 'In your condition.'

Her condition? She felt the heat rise to her cheeks. He couldn't know. There was on way on earth he could know. Yet his voice, his repeated question, suggested that somehow he did, and when she didn't answer he turned abruptly and walked towards the rear door of the cottage, pushed it open, ducking under the low lintel as he went inside. Marron abandoned the bean trench for the second time that afternoon and, pulling off her gardening gloves, followed him inside.

He wasn't in the mud room or the kitchen. 'Trunks'? Where are you?' she called. Dropping her gloves on the kitchen table, kicking off her earth-caked boots. A creak from the floor above her portrayed his whereabouts. What on earth...? 'Trunks', what are you doing? What do you want?'

Upstairs, in the bathroom, Trunks' grabbed the basin. This couldn't be happening to him. It couldn't be true. Fatherhood had no part in his life plan. He didn't want this. No way. Never.

Except that it was. The evidence was apparently there, right there, before his eyes.

His hand was shaking as he reached for the piece of plastic with its telltale line of blue. He gripped it hard, wrapping it in his fist, wanting to break it, smash it, make it go away. Such a small thing. So insignificant. So easy to overlook.

He wouldn't have known what the line meant if it wasn't for Bra. If he'd called in to see Marron...

If!

Who did he think he was fooling? He hadn't been able to wait to see her! All the teddy bears in the world couldn't change that or hide it. He'd have come here and made hot, sweet love to her, then they'd have shared a shower, and with the evidence in front of him he still wouldn't have known.

How long would she have waited to tell him? Until it was too late to do anything about it... 'not a woman to make a mistake, so it must have been planned...' was what Bra had said to Goten.

His hands bunched into fists and he banged them down on the white porcelain sink. How much had she planned? All of it? Even the dramatic last-minute entry at the christening?

She'd known he would be there, singled him out enchanting him with her blue eyes and seductive voice. And he didn't doubt for a minute that she knew understood exactly what effect she would have on any susceptible man.

Oh, yes. It had been planned, and, libido rampant, he'd fallen for it. Right down to the last magical embrace when her kiss had trawled him in, tempting him beyond though...

What a fool! What an idiot!

What on earth had possessed him? He was a man with 'precaution' stamped on his brain. Goten had as good as warned him. 'Take care,' he'd said. He hadn't added, 'She'll bewitch you.' Not that it would have made any difference.

Trunks' had thought himself invulnerable to even the most meticulously planned guerilla attack on his heart. It had been tried before and his heart was totally immune to sentiments beyond his experience, beyond his understanding. Which was why he'd so cavalierly ignored the danger signal, Goten's warning.

So now what?

Did she believe he would marry her because she was carrying his child? Had she picked out a millionaire daddy for her baby? Well, she'd picked the wrong man for those games.

'Trunks?'

He turned as softly, oh, so softly, her voice caressed him, teased him, stole into every corner of his mind.

Take care.

Goten was right. Even now it was taking every ounce of self-control to stop himself from reaching out for her, from taking her into his arms, telling her that it would be all right.

He knew better.

He wasn't like Goten, who'd grown up in a warm, caring family and had learned to play happy families at his mother's knee. He'd warned Marron, told her that he didn't do commitment, and sooner she understood that it would take more than a blue line on a stick of plastic to suck him into her tender trap, the better.

'Trunks?' she repeated, the soft inflection inviting an explanation.

'Marron?' he responded, his voice lifting on ironic mimicry. And opened his hand so she would know exactly what he meant. 'now I'll ask you again. Should you be digging in your condition?'

'I'm pregnant, Trunks,' she said quietly, refusing to respond to the aggression in his voice. 'Not an invalid.'

'And you intend to go through with it?' he demanded.

She regarded him steadily, sorrowfully, her eyes all too visible now, all to easy to read, and he dearly wished the words unsaid. Un-thought.

'This is my baby, Trunks. She might be only this big—' and she held her finger and thumb with scarcely a space between them '--- but she's my little girl.' Then she turned and walked out the bathroom.

Trunks frowned, followed her down the stairs. 'You can tell it's a girl? Already?' he demanded.

She shook her head impatiently. 'Go away, Trunks. This has nothing to do with you.'

'Nothing...' He caught his breath in his throat. 'Are you saying it is not my baby?' He demanded. If she was, the sick feeling that had been sitting like a stone in his stomach since Bra erupted in the kitchen with her news should have evaporated. It hadn't. It had shifted, changed, deepened. 'Well? Are you?'

'No, Trunks. I'm not saying that. She's your baby. Our baby. What I'm saying is that you needn't...'

'What? I needn't what?'

'Worry about us.' Her hand hovered briefly at her waist, so that he would know which 'us' she was referring to, before she let it drop to her side. 'I don't need you to hold me hand. We don't need you. If it bothers you, just go, forget you came here. Forget you ever met me.'

He stared at her. Was she serious? 'That's what you want?' She didn't answer and he suddenly realized what was going on. She wanted a baby with a daddy rich enough to ensure that it lacked nothing. She didn't want the trouble of a man about the house. 'I'll be hearing from your lawyers, is that it?' he asked, keeping his own voice flat and expressionless.

'Lawyers?' She shook her head, as if he was slowwitted or something. "I don't want your money Trunks. I have money. I run a successful business...'

Yeah, sure. He wasn't that slow. 'You can't run a business with a baby on your hip.'

'Watch me.' Then she made the slightest of gestures apparently dismissing him and his concerns. 'Or not, As you please. You said you don't do commitment, Trunks. I heard you, and believe me when I promise that you are not committed to my baby or me. Financially or emotionally.' There was crispness in her voice that suggested she was losing patience. 'And you needn't worry about what Bra and Goten will think. I'll speak to them. They know me; they'll understand.'

'Will they? I'll be damned if I do.'

'No? Well, I'm sorry, trunks, I'm afraid I can't put it any plainer.'

And she crossed to the door, opened it as if she was setting free some small frightened creature that she was pushing out into the world for its own good.

Standing on the threshold, his thoughts in turmoil, he realized that he didn't want to go. He just didn't know how to stay. And if he did stay it would give Marron Chestnut entirely the wrong idea about his determination not to get caught up in the emotional roller coaster she had boarded.

Bad idea.

Instead he head for the gate while he still remembered how, determined not to look back once he'd got there. If she was bluffing, well, he was calling her.

The door clicked shut before he'd gone half a dozen steps and he swung around, taken by surprise.

Dammit she meant it! She really meant it!

Well that was just fine. So did he. Now they both knew where they stood.

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Authors Note - So what'd you think? Please read and review. And remember I love long reviews.  
  
Have a good day!

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	6. Second Month Part 1

**_Authors Note: This is the long awaited installed to TBB. I'm happy to say I accomplished in updating it. But before I continue I will like to thank the reviewers who reviewed the last chapter. Before I add comments to each of these reviewers, I would like to also thank those you read the story and didn't leave a review. I do ask of those readers to please leave a review. It doesn't have to be long, though I do love long reviews. And also, ladies and gents, you must thank 'I wont tell' as it is due to this reviewer that I have updated. I thought people had stopped reading, but his/her review was like 'woah! People are still reading and they like it, so Tash get off your fat ass and update' XD_**

_**i won't tell:** Your review was amazing! I loved it and thank you so much. I do have a question for you though. What do you mean by: '…I can't see any other author handling this subject as delicately as you are…' So I'm wondering what you meant by 'delicately' is confuzzled Hehe. I'm not from England, nor do I know bull about it. My boyfriend lives in England so the story is kind of done there for that reason and because I want to go to England. I'm from New Zealand. The way I have done Marron's cottage and garden is what I imagine fairies would have. The nature and just the beauty of it. I don't deserve all the credit as there are people who help out with the editing and adding stuff about England, the way it is, and just stuff like that. Of course I have final say. But these people are a great part of this story; they know who they are, even if they don't use , so no names need to be mentioned. )_

_**Starry-Eyez888:** Lol. If he opened himself up and they fell madly in love, then there would be no place for me, and no way for this story to catch your attention which I have been told it does. P_

_**Rose Garden:** takes a bow Thank you. If it weren't for friends who help out on this story then they'd be aliens and babies having red eyes. Lol. Just kidding. I'm not so far-fetched. I like the fact that you enjoy my story. I will try to update sooner, and not wait 3-5 months XD_

_**Kawaiisempai:** One thing: OMG! Your review held me captive, had to read it a few times for the big long words to sink into my little old brain. XD I bet you have some amazing stories considering your great vocabulary. And I hope a certain event near the end is a good little; if you must call it, twist. But do not skip to the end, just read from the start to the end P_

_**Punkygal:** Thank you for your review. I love your style of reviews. XP_

**_Thank you all once again. Do enjoy!_**

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_**Chapter Two; Part One**_

_The Second Month: The tendency to put on weight begins. Morning sickness may begin to bother you now although it won't necessarily be in the mornings. It's time to visit your doctor and maybe get a scan._

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"Your dates suggest that you shouldn't plan anything strenuous for the second half of December." The doctor crossed to the sink to wash her hands.

"You mean I'll have to put the two weeks' skiing in Klosters on hold?" Marron asked, grinning stupidly. First intuition, then chemistry, and now medical science has confirmed that she was pregnant and she was grinning fro Britain. Until she realized how snug her waistband had become. "Uh, should I be putting on weight already, Sally?"

"I'm afraid so. You're has the fun; its downhill all the way from here."

"Downhill? I though I was supposed to glow."

"You will, my dear. You will. It's nature's compensation for the morning sickness, the heartburn, the loss of visual contact with your feet---"

"Okay, okay," Marron said quickly. "That'll do. I get the picture."

"Do you?" Dr Sally Maitland turned and looked at her thoughtfully. "Pregnancy is the easy bit. I'd be happier if I though this wasn't going to be parenthood for one," she said. "That your baby's father…" She paused momentarily, but when no name was forthcoming carried on "… is planning on sticking around to see through what he started."

That was the trouble having a doctor who'd know you since she'd put you in your mother's arms. She didn't feel the need to be the least bit tactful. As for the question…

It was a week since Trunks had walked out of her cottage, called a cab on his mobile as he walked back to Goten and Bra's place and high-tailed it back to London with a face like thunder. She'd had the details from Bra, who'd raced over, full of remorse at her unintentional blunder.

"He's had a bit of shock," she'd said, in an attempt to excuse his reaction to the news. "It's my fault, blurting it out like that to Goten. I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Bra. He'd have had to know sooner or later."

"Later might have been better. When you'd had a chance to get to know Trunks. Find out what makes him tick beyond an insatiable capacity for work and a gift for making money." She shrugged. "No one else has a clue. Just that kind of stuff is difficult for him. Dad made his childhood rough, although he never talks about it. I get the impression dad was unfair on us and commitment to my mother was non-existence---"

"It's all right, Bra. Really."

"We're still friends?"

"The best. I would have told you about the baby, but I wanted to tell Trunks first. You saved me an awkward moment."

"I doubt that," she said. Then, "Give him time to get his head around it. He'll be back."

"Maybe." He wasn't counting on it. Bra hadn't been there. Hadn't heard the way he'd asked if she was 'going through with it.'

"Deep down he's a really caring man, Marron. He still helps out the woman who took him in when dad kicked him out. I mean really helps. He could pay someone to go down and do it, but he goes down there, makes sure she's coping, and does her accounts. I've even seen him stacking shelves. Okay, so he lives for his work," Bra admitted. "Seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year, but he found time to give us a hand when Goten and I were working on a charity project for deprived kids. He's never slow to put his hand in his pocket---"

"I'm not a charity case."

"No, of course not. Well, give him time."

How much time? Marron wondered. He had something less then eight months, which seems forever right now, but the clock was running.

"Marron?" She snapped back to the present. To the doctor, who was waiting for some response from her? "Is the father going to be sticking around?"

"What? Oh. I don't know." This was something of a first for her. It was her ability to read people, feel their moods, their uncertainties that have made Goten look at her sideways more than once. This time she seemed to have gotten it all wrong. "I don't know."

"Right. Well, in that case we'd better get down to practicalities." Sally picked up the phone. "Let's see how soon we can get a scan…"

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'Forget you ever met me.' 

He'd tried. For three weeks he'd been trying. Absolutely determined to wipe Marron Chestnut from his memory, he'd thrown himself into work. Work had always been the answer to the emptiness, and there was plenty of that to distract him not that the American deal had finally gone through.

Unfortunately, this time it wasn't working.

Marron might have told him to go away, forgot about her and her baby, and she'd certainly sounded as if she'd meant it.

But it wasn't that easy. This was his worst nightmare, the kind that brought him awake sweating and shivering in the middle of the night. Forgetting was going to take a lot of effort. Absolute concentration.

For that he needed to wipe away all the sense of unfinished business. Of concern. At least the rewards of hard work provided the means to assuage the guilt hat was gnawing at him that would continue to gnaw at him while he worried about how she would cope. Well, he could deal with that.

He regarded the cheque he had written with a certain amount of satisfaction. He might suffer from emotional attachment deficit but he had no doubt that Marron could provide enough emotion for two; he'd had the most vivid experience of her ability to connect, to enfold, to touch. Just the touch of her fingertips on his face had been…

"They're waiting for you in the boardroom, Trunks." His secretary's disembodied voice on the intercom dragged him back from the heat of his memories. He should have known. Anyone who could give that much would always be a threat to his detachment. His peace of mind. And she would expect something in return. All he had was money.

"I'll be right there, Maggie," he said. And he signed the cheque. Marron could do the warm, emotional stuff and he would pay the bills. Between them, the baby wouldn't lack for anything.

He stuffed the cheque in an envelope, addressed it and tossed it into his out tray. Now he could get on with the one thing he understood-making money- and forget all about Marron Chestnut.

He'd been in the meeting for less than ten minutes when the envelope lying in his out tray began to plague at him, distracting him. He should have enclosed a note… he should have said something. That he was sorry. That he---

"Trunks?"

No. That would put a crack in his armor, a way in, and he refused to be haunted by this woman. He would end it now. "Carry on without me," he said, rising to his feet. "I have to do something. It'll take a minute."

Back in his office he picked up the envelope. Maybe he should take it down there. Maybe he should…

Dear god, what was it about Marron Chestnut? It was as if she'd invaded his mind, addled his wits. "Call the courier, Maggie. I want this delivered right away," he said, dropping the envelope on his secretary's desk. Then he glanced at his watch. "No, wait." He'd written the address of the cottage, but she'd be at the shop for the rest of the day. "Ring Bra Son at the Melchester Chronicle and ask her for Miss Chestnut's business address. Send it there."

"No problem."

No. No problem. Not now.

* * *

"Any problems, Vicki?" Marron dropped her bag on her desk, along with her shopping. 

"Nothing I couldn't handle. How did it go? Could you see the baby?" Vicki grinned. "And have you bought up the entire stock of that baby boutique in the shopping mall?" she asked, taking the bags, putting them on the desk and riffling through them.

Marron laughed. "Everything's perfect. The baby is this big," she said, holding her thumb and finger half an inch apart. Vicki, still deep in the bags, picked out the tiniest pair of powder-puff pink baby bootees.

"Oh, bless!"

"I know. I just went in to look but you know how it is." Vicki emptied the bags, cooing over the precious little things until Marron made an effort to come back down to earth and called a halt, packing them away. That's when she saw the courier envelope. "Vicki, what's this?"

"Oh gosh. I'm sorry. That arrived just before you got back."

Marron picked up the big square card envelope, looked at the name of the sender and with fingers that were suddenly shaking she tore it open, took out the thick white envelope inside.

She knew what it contained even before she opened it, but it was still a shock. Her joyful mood, the sweet pleasure of buying tiny clothes for the baby growing inside her, evaporated like a dawn mist in August and she said a word that made Vicki blink.

"Bad news?" she asked. "What is it? That VAT man on the warpath? Death-watch beetle in the attic?"

"Worse. It's from my baby's father." And she ripped the contents of the envelope in two. It felt so good that she kept on doing it until the cheque was reduced to confetti. Then she picked up a fresh envelope, and after copying the sender's address from the courier slip, she scooped the shredded cheque into it. She sealed it and stamped it and tossed it in her out tray.

"Tea?" Vicki said, slowly. "Green tea?" And she handed Marron a small phial of mandarin oil. "And, in the meantime, I suggest you should rub a little of this on your pulse points. It'll make you feel better."

She didn't want to feel better. She wanted to scream. She wanted to smash something. How dare he send her a cheque? She wanted it out of her sight. Out of her shop.

"I'll be fine, Vicki," she said, with controlled venom. "Just as soon as that--" she pointed at the envelope "—that thing… is out of my sight. Forget the tea. Take it to the post office now and send it by record delivery. I want to be absolutely certain he got it."

"Um, maybe you should wait ten minutes. Think about it. It's what you always tell me--"

"No." She was trusting her instincts on this one. Calm thought was not the appropriate reaction. The feeling was too strong to bottle up, and keep a lid on it. She needed Trunks to know exactly how she felt. "Just do as I ask, Vicki. Please. Straight away."

"Look, if you feel that strongly about it I could ask the courier to take it back with him. He was due for his lunch break, so I suggested the café across the courtyard." And she blushed. "I was going to join him if you got back in time."

"Oh, Vicki!"

"We all have weaknesses," she said. "Yours is for pink bootees. Mine is for black leather."

"I'm not in the mood to encourage young love," Marron warned. Then she shook her head. "All right. Use the courier. But don't blame me if he breaks your heart. And it has to be signed for by Trunks Briefs. No one else. If I'm going to spend a fortune making a statement, I want to be sure I'm getting my money's worth."

"You will," she said. And grinned. "Just leave it to me."

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**_Authors Note: I Hope you enjoyed that. Please find the time to leave a quick review. Remember more reviews mean sooner updates. P Hehe, this chapter, including the title, was 1,974 words XD  
The answer to the riddle/question will be revealed at the end of the very last chapter of this story. Till then don't be shy to guess what they have in common. P  
_**

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	7. Second Month Part 2

**Authors Note: **

Dear Reader,

You may be a bit suprised to see a new chapter, or rather an installment of the chapter, up so quickly. Well this is due to the fact that your reviews brighten my day and I have nothing better to do XD I enjoyed writing the very last part of this chapter as I wanted to leave you hanging and I do hope the last few sentences do accomplish this.

I have a request for anyone who is reading this and to those readers who like the Harry Potter coupling; Draco and Hermione. I would like to read a very good story about them as I haven't done so in awhile, so please forward some suggestions.

Now I shall thank my wonderfully great reviewers, whom may I add I have grown to adore and enjoy your reviews greatly.

**To: kawaiisempai **I have already sent you a message thanking you for your review, and I might added you have a very tasteful sense of vocabulary and that if you plan on writing a story to tell me about it, I would be greatful to read something with such immense vocabulary.

**To: Sakura ** It's wonderful to know that i am not the only one taht makes up words. Though my words come about from utter boredom or silly-ness. I have in the past used words such as zoomzoom to indicate bored and picklebottoms to indicate annoyance. And its is great to know you have noticed that there is orginality in my story as that was something I was hoping would captivate more readers and reviewers. I too find that when I am enjoying a story and I come to the last chapter to find no button to the next chapter I become slightly upset and annoyed XD. And your review did make sense, and I do not mind if you ramble. When rambling you say what you really mean, cause you don't think of it to alter it in any way or form, and it comes out just as you think of it. So do ramble on when you review, as I love reading. And as I have mentioned before the longer the review the happier I become. D

**To: i wont tell **My boyfriend doesn't have much input as he doesn't know this story exist nor that I am a member of I have in the past enquired about England with many people, but the information i get from him is along the lines of it being a nice place where he lives by a hill but the girls are a bit to.. well not like young ladies should behave XD ad during these conversations him moving here has been mentioned which is just terrific! D

**To: the 14th -fallen angel** Thank you for your review and it was very much appreciated. And well here is the update.

And on with the story! This may be a bit shorter than previous chapters.

_The Bachelor's Baby_

_Chapter 2; Part 2_

_Marron turns to see Trunks walk into the room as he settles himself next to her. _

_"Oh Marron, its hard to believe I would have thrown all the wonderful sex away due my my utter stupidity."_

_"Well aren't you glad, you didn't listen to your heart and to me."_

_"Indeed I am, no one could look like such a sexy vixen with a swollen stomach like you can. Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?"_

_"Oh yes!" she squealed, as she threw herself into his arms. The impact of her rather larger and extra weight sending him right down to the floor, squashing him beneath her. _

You didn't really think that was the story, did you? This was just for amusement sake,** i wont tell **may realise why I did this XD

Any way, my long awaiting readers now on with the real story, do enjoy and remember to review. Oh and this chapter, I believe is one of the longest yet.. I think.

Yours Sincerly,

_Forever Broken_

**The Bachelor's Baby**

**Chapter 2; Part 2**

Trunks frowned at the note his secretary passed to him. "Can't you deal with it?"

"Sorry it has to be signed for by the addressee."

"Okay. Lets take five gentlemen." He got up and followed Maggie into the Reception, where the courier was waiting. "You've got something for me?"

"If you're Trunks Briefs, then indeed I do."

"Yes I am."

"Then I've got this, if you could sign for it." He offered a pen.

Trunks took it, signed for an envelope with 'Marron Chestnut' picked out in elegant black and gold lettering on the top left-hand corner. So, she'd got the cheque. He hadn't expected such a swift response and he held the envelope for a moment; it was thick and soft and contained for than a polite 'thank you' note. As he pushed his thumb beneath the flap and ripped it open, he had a very bad feeling about it.

Trunks frowned at the contents. Pink and soft. He wasn't sure what he was expecting. Nothing pink and soft, that was for sure. As he pulled it out, a handful of tiny scarps of paper fluttered about him, settling at his feet. The cheque had been shredded so thoroughly that only when Maggie began to gather up the pieces that he saw part of his signature did he realize what it was.

"What the devil…?"

Maggie handed him the pieces. "One of two things, Trunks. It wasn't enough. Or she doesn't want your money. Take your pick. But if it's the latter, I'd say you're in trouble."

"The question was rhetorical," he said coldly.

Maggie had been his secretary for too long to be choked off by a chilly put-down. "Sorry, Trunks," she said, almost kindly. "I'm afraid trouble doesn't come in 'rhetorical' .Not this kind."

"And what kind is that?" He was digging a bigger hole for himself, he knew it, but couldn't stop himself.

"The kind involving a woman and a cheque. Especially if she's pregnant."

"Pregnant?" His face remained impassive, even while his gut was churning. "What makes you think she's pregnant?"

"Well, the pink bootees are a bit of a giveaway," Maggie said. "It seems she's – you're- expecting a girl. Congratulations."

"Bootees…" He realized what he was holding. Bootees. Blossom-pink, thistledown-soft. "Oh…" He said. Then, "Sugar."

"I think, under the circumstances, a little more enthusiasm is called for."

"Sorry, Maggie. I can't do enthusiasm. Not for this." He continued to stare at the bootees. They were so…so…small. He tried to imagine feet tiny enough to fit them. Toes… He snapped his mind back from the brink. "She knows that. I thought the cheque would help."

"Did you?" Maggie shook her head. "And I though you were quite bright, for a man. Never mind, keep trying. I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually."

"You think that I'm heading for wedding bells and happy ever after?" he could read her like a book. "Give me a break." She said nothing, but she was thinking for England, he could see. "Okay, what would you do? If you were me? Forgetting the white lace and promises bit," he added quickly.

"That would depend on what I-as you- wanted."

Maggie waited a moment. Then asked, "What do you want, Trunks?"

"Me? I've got everything I ever wanted." He was successful and rich. His mother would have been proud to see what he had accomplished with what little he had been given. "I don't want this."

Maggie gave him an old-fashioned look. "It appears that you don't have a choice. It is yours?" She quirked an eyebrow. "There's no doubt?" He shook his head. It was his. The only thing he could imagine worse than this situation was knowing that Marron was expecting someone else's baby. It didn't make sense, he knew, but then the emotional stuff never did. "You know, Trunks, having a baby is a bit like bacon and egg breakfast."

He dragged his thoughts back from the golden moment when they'd made the baby. "This should be good."

"It takes two to make it happen," she said ignoring his muttered interjection. "But while the chicken makes a contribution, the pig is totally committed. The mother of your baby can't walk away, Trunks. Or pretend it isn't happening. Or pay someone else to feel the pain." About to say more, she apparently changed her mind.

"What?"

"Nothing. At least… Well, maybe you shouldn't take the way she handled your cheque to seriously. Her hormones are probably acting up. Leave it for a few weeks. Try again when everything's settled down." Then she shrugged. "Or you might get lucky. It might just take an extra zero."

What did he want?

That was easy. He wanted Marron. He wanted to stop the world, rewind the tape, and replay those hours they'd spent together. He wanted to breathe in the sweet scent of her skin, he wanted to wake with her in his arms, wanted to hear her whimpering softly as he took her over the edge, followed her there, briefly, to a place beyond pain. For now. He knew it was a fleeting thing. An ache that would soon pass.

Unlike fatherhood.

He didn't want to be a father. He didn't know how to be a father. Not the kind of father any baby would want. What he wanted, what he needed, was for Marron to take the money so that he could walk away with a clear conscience. Money to pay for help. Money to pay for everything.

Maggie was being over-sentimental about that. Money would do it every time. One way or another. And Marron would take it. Eventually. She'd have no choice. But maybe sending it like that had been a mistake. It had been cold and impersonal, and she was a warm and caring woman. In her place, he realized, he would have been angry, too.

He crumpled the bootees in his hand, stuffed them out of sight in his pocket. No way.

But Maggie was right, he acknowledged belatedly. The cheque had been crass. His father would have sent a cheque, or frighten the woman to such an extent to cause miscarriage or utter compliance to never speak to him again. He should have thought of something less direct, something that she could have accepted without losing her dignity. A trust fund for the baby, maybe. She wouldn't, couldn't refuse that, not once she accepted that he wasn't to be turned to marshmallow by a pair of pink bootees.

He had to go down there tonight. Apologize. Check that she was keeping well. Not overdoing it. She couldn't be on her feet all day…

Dammit! He was doing it again. Thinking about her. Worrying about her. He spat out an unneeded curse that had once earned him a beating from…

No!

He dragged his fingers through his hair. Dear God, where had that thought come from? He had blanked all of that out. Walled it in the attic of his mind with all the other ghosts.

This was her doing. Marron, with her baby blue eyes and gentle touch. His wall was defenseless against her. He knew, just knew, that if he wasn't very careful she would dismantle it, take it down, brick by brick, and let out all the pain. It had already begun.

Emotion was a loose cannon. Uncontrollable. And the one thing he' always promised himself was that he would never be out of control of his life. Never again. He would get this over with. Deal with it. Finish it.

For a moment, Marron thought the courier was back. She was behind the cottage, working off her bad mood on the weeds. They would never let her down. They were predictable. They'd always be there.

She was carefully easing out the dandelion with the trowel when she heard the motorbike roaring up the lane then slowing. Then stopping at her gate. The dandelion root snapped leaving half still embedded in the soil.

"Damn!"

Damn, damn, damn! The day had begun so well, so joyfully; then Trunks' conscience had given him a jab in the ribs and after that it had been downhill all the way.

She straightened as the leather-clad figure rounded the side of the cottage, wondering what he'd sent her this time. A bigger cheque? Did he really believe that was what she wanted? Was he that stupid?

That scared?

The man pulled at the strap beneath the black helmet. Removed it. And her heart did a crazy flip-flop that made her feel a little dizzy, so that she grabbed for the post of the compost bin. Not a courier this time; this time Trunks had come himself. Which could be better --- or much worse.

He looked tired, she thought. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and his cheeks had a sucked-in hollow look emphasized by the stubble of a day's dark growth of beard. He looked like a man to whom sleep was a stranger.

And the flip-flop happened again. Not just her heart this time, but her entire body responded, reaching out to him. It was good thing that her feet were weighted down by her gardening boots, keeping her pinned to the spot long enough for her to drag her protesting heart and hormones – back into line.

"You're the last person I expected to see," she said.

"We need to talk, Marron. There are thinks we had to settle."

Talk. Settle. Worse, then, because his voice, flat and expressionless, left her in no doubt what he wanted to discuss. He wasn't bringing his heart, but his wallet. Maybe she'd got it right when she suggested to Bra that money was all trunks had to offer. Not a problem when you were a millionaire more times over than you could count.

But if money was all he had to offer, he was in the wrong place. This wasn't the kind of conversation she wanted to have with the father of her child. She'd though she'd made her feelings quite clear on that subject.

Most men would have taken the hint, probably thanked their lucky stars and left it at that. But then again Trunks Briefs wasn't most men. He didn't want to get involved but he couldn't walk away. His conscience wouldn't let him.

"Have you eaten?" she asked.

"We need to talk," he repeated. As if he'd learned the words and nothing would deflect him from his purpose.

"Well, you can eat and talk at the same time, can't you?"

"Please don't-"

"Don't what? Make it difficult for you?" She wasn't doing that. "I'm making it as easy as I know how, Trunks. You're the one making things difficult." She stripped off her gardening gloves. "Have you eaten?" she repeated.

"No."

"Then come inside and I'll get something."

"If you insist." His voice was firm, cold. It was the gesture that betrayed him. The tiniest lift of a hand in supplication.

He was already having a bad time.

She steeled her heart. "No Trunks. I don't do ultimatums. You want to talk; I want to eat. Stay or go. You choose." And she walked towards the back door, kicked off her boots and headed for the sink, forcing herself not to look back and check if he was following or not.

"How are you?"

How could he make those words sound so impersonal? After the way they had been together? After such passion, such tenderness? Marron took a deep breath and made an effort to match him.

"I'm fine. I had my first scan today."

"Scan?"

"An ultrasounds scan. Just to confirm dates, check the embryo has implanted properly." He'd like that word, she thought, scrubbing her hands at the old butler's sink. Embryo. You couldn't get more impersonal than that when you were talking about a baby. She half turned, looked back to where he was silhouetted in the doorway, unwilling to step over the threshold. Vicki might be right about black leather, she thought. It gave a man a dangerous edge. Not that Trunks needed any kind of edge to hold her attention. "And confirm the number of embryos present," she added, a little wickedly, just to make certain she had his.

The muscle tightening in his jaw was her only rewards. "And how many are there?"

"Does it matter?" she asked, reaching for a towel. "It's not your problem." Then turned to face him as she dried her hand, "Do multiple births run in the family?"

**Authors Note: **Well, how was it? Was the ending a bit of a cliff-hanger? I wanted it to be, though I wasn't sure how. I hope it all made sense. And that you enjoyed reading it. Well now that you have read it, please take the time to review. Thank you.


	8. Second Month Part 3

**Authors Note:**

_Dear Readers any that are still around __

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_I'm sorry that this update has taken so terribly wrong. I will admit that it isn't complete. I have had writers block for ages now. And this installment of the story was very hard to write. I am posting an incomplete version because I do realize it has been ages since an update._

_I, after ages, came to read something on when I began reading the reviews you guys have left for this story. That really made me start writing. I do hope it is to your liking and not too short. And I also hope that it doesn't seem incomplete._

_Again I apologize for the late update, and hope I can be forgiven and that people will be back reading this story again. Now I won't hold you up any longer. Enjoy!_

_P.s. I will try to get update up at least once every two weeks and/or more if possible. I do need someone to continuously remind me though._

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**The Bachelors Baby**

**Chapter two; Part three point one**

"How many?" he demanded, with just a hint of panic.

"Just one, Trunks," she said, her voice softening, an antidote to his sharpness. "I was going to make an omelet. The eggs are very good. Free ranger… organic. One of my neighbors keeps a few chickens."

Trunks didn't want to eat. He didn't want to cozy up over supper. Didn't want to know about the scans, or anything else to do with her pregnancy. He wanted to get this over with and get back to London as quick as possible. If eating with her would speed up the process… "An omelet will be fine."

"Then you'd better come in."

He propped his helmet on an old scrubbed table, unbuckled his boots, stripped off his jacket and padded into the kitchen in his socks, feeling at disadvantage. He hadn't thought about that when he'd decided that the Ducatti's two wheels would be a lot faster through the rush hour traffic than using a car, right now he'd have welcomed the formality of a suit. Maybe he should have sent a lawyer.

The idea made him feel queasy. The cheque had been bad enough. He'd seen what she'd done to the cheque. His father, he realized with a sickening sense of his own inadequacy, would have sent a lawyer as a follow up of the cheque or scared the poor girl half to death with his menacing attitude. At least unlike his father he had not thought a lawyer to be appropriate in such a delicate situation.

She waved in the direction of a saggy old armchair. "Shift Harry and make yourself comfortable." It wasn't the glare from the cat in residence that kept him on his feet. Rather the fact that once he was seated he would loose the height advantage. Instead, he leaned against the doorjamb and watched her as she set about making their supper. The silence lengthened.

"Have you seen Bra and Goten since—" He began, and then broke off awkwardly.

Marron broke an egg into a basin, stared at it for a moment, then looked up. "Since?" she prompted. Then, "Oh, I see. Since. Yes, Bra came over as soon as you'd gone. The Poor girl was in a bit of a state. I told her to not to…" She rubbed the back of her hand over her upper lip. Had it got warmer, all of a sudden? "I told her not to worry." She cracked another egg and watched as it oozed thickly from the shell to join the first in the basin. She hadn't noticed before that eggs had any particular smell. Not beautiful fresh, free range eggs. She picked up a third egg, cracked it on the side of the basin. Sort of oily…

"Marron?" She looked up and at that moment registered briefly that Trunks was frowning. Then she was assailed by a wave of nausea and egg number three hit the floor as she turned and ran for the scullery sink.

The heaving, the throwing up, seemed to go on for ever. She hung onto the edge of the sink, vaguely aware of Trunks at her back, holding her, supporting her so that she wouldn't just slither to the floor as her legs buckled beneath her.

Eventually, though, the spasms eased for long enough for her to apologize. "It's not the cooking, I promise you," she said, smiling weakly as she leaned shakily back against him.

He said nothing, just damped the edge of a towel, and wiped it over her face, around the back of her neck, over her throat.

"Um… I hope you meant it when you said you weren't bothered about supper. I don't think I could…" For a moment she though it was going to begin again.

"Take deep breaths through your mouth," Trunks looked down at her, at the pale damp strands of hair clinging to her cheeks and forehead. She had gone dead white before the sickness struck. She was still very pale, and in the face of her attempt at humor he felt utterly small. "You should be lying down." If anything happened to the baby… "Let's get you up to bed."

"Bed? After that? You've got to be kidding." Then she laughed a little, just to show that she was only joking.

"Bed," he repeated. She still looked ghastly and his heart squeezed painfully. "Then I'll call your doctor."

"Trunks, its nothing. Morning sickness, that's all."

"Morning sickness?" What did she take him for, a fool? It was after seven in the evening. "You know that for a fact? Has it happened before?"

"Well, no, but—"

"It could be anything. Food poisoning. Or you might have picked up some bug in the garden."

"Rubbish."

"That too. The compost heap is no place for a pregnant woman." He wanted to pick her up and rush her off to the hospital. "Tell me, Marron. How can it be morning sickness when it's seven o'clock in the evening?"

"Well—" she began. Then stopped. "I just assumed—"

"Exactly. Come on, Lean on me." About to protest that she could manage on her own two legs, that she was already feeling a lot better, she thought better of it and let him put his arm around her and help her up the stairs.

Let him take her damp shirt off. Let him help her out of her trousers. Confronted by her underwear, he hesitated, then, apparently deciding he had removed enough of her clothes, he held up the covers to let her slide between the sheets. Tucked her in before briefly touching her forehead with the back of his fingers.

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Chapter/installment to be continued 


	9. Second Month Part 4

A/N: Story is back up and running. Will attempt another update before I head off on holiday. Enjoy :)

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He tucked her in before briefly touching her forehead with the back of his fingers.

"You're cooler, "he said, absently brushing her hair back from her face. "You've got some colour back."

"I feel better."

"Is there anything you need?" Just him beside her, holding her. Holding her and their baby. That would be perfect. "Anything I can bring you?"

"No, thanks." Then she yawned. "Actually, I'm a bit sleepy. That's all I need. Sleep."

"You'll be all right if I leave you while I call the doctor?"

"Don't bother Sally. I'm fine now. Honestly." Marron snuggled down against the lavender-scented pillow while his fingers gentled her temple. "Absolutely great." And she closed her eyes. She had to do that before she could bring herself to send him away. "Can you let yourself out, Trunks? Lock the door behind you?"

Trunks watched her for a moment. Her colour had returned but he still wanted to hear it from a doctor, and after a moment, when he was sure she was a sleep, he went downstairs. Dr Sally Maitland was listed on the fast-dial directory.

Her, "I'll be right there," did nothing to reassure him.

"Marron didn't want me to bother you, he said ten minutes later when he opened the door. "it's no bother. She's upstairs?"

She's drifted off to sleep? Is that a good thing?"

"The best." She went upstairs and looked in, but didn't wake her. "Is it her first bout of sickness?" she asked when she rejoined Trunks.

'I think so. She said it hadn't happened before. But it can't be... well... just..."

"Morning sickness?"

"Well, can it? I mean it's not the morning. Nowhere near."

"Yes, well, I'm afraid early pregnancy nausea can strike at any time of the day." She grimaced. "Sometimes all day. Give her some dry toast or a cracker when she wakes up, if she wants it. And if you can find a bottle of ginger ale about the place, she might find that helps the queasiness. I did suggest she get some in."

"But..."

Dr Maitland's eyebrows suggested that "but" wasn't a word she would countenance. "You weren't thinking of leaving her alone tonight?"

His thoughts – mostly revolving around his own stupidity – weren't fit for the ears of a lady doctor. "No," he said, after the pause grew uncomfortably long. "No, of course not."

"Good." She nodded, apparently satisfied. "Don't hesitate to call me again if you're worried about anything." And at that she headed for the door.

"That's it?"

"No point in disturbing her, Mr Briefs." And the lines on her harassed face arranged themselves into a smile. "I've seen all I need. Tell her I'll give her a call in the morning."

He went back upstairs. She was sleeping like a baby now. Her cheeks flushed with colour, her hair pale gold against the pillow. She looked so defenceless, so utterly desirable, and deep within him a siren call promised that if he just stopped fighting it, if he slipped into bed beside hr and held her, everything would be fine.

He turned abruptly and took the stairs two at a time. Before he succumbed.

Downstairs, dealing with the basics, clearing up the mess, it was easier to concentrate. He didn't have any choice but to stay tonight. If at any time in the future he felt the urge to come racing down to the cottage, he'd go and lie down in a darkened room until the feeling passed.

The next time he checked on her, she stirred. "How are you feelings?"

She focused on his from the depths of her pillow. Blinked. Frowned. "Trunks? You're still here? I thought you'd be long gone."

"Of course I am still here," he snapped. "Did you think I'd walk out and leave you?" he could have phrased that more carefully. What else would she think? "I came here to talk to you. And your doctor assumed I would be staying."

"You called Sally?"

"I thought you were ill. Having never been in this situation before, I wasn't aware that morning sickness doesn't necessarily mean _'morning'_ sickness."

"Confusing, isn't it? And you didn't get any supper, either."

"I'm not helpless. Marron. I don't need waiting on. Quite the reverse in fact. I'll get something for you. She suggested dry toast," he added.

"Yummy," she said, unenthusiastically.

"That's a thumbs-down for dry toast, is it?" She made a thumbs-down gesture. "What would you like?"

Marron eased herself up into a sitting position and knew exactly what she wanted. Trunks had arrived at her cottage, a leather-clad, macho man of the world, determined to put an end to this relationship, certain that it was simply a matter of haggling over how much it would cost him. The idiot. Now he was hovering anxiously in her bedroom doorway, trapped by his own conscience and clearly wishing he was anywhere else.

There was something utterly endearing, she thought, about a man totally out of his depth. That look of helplessness was irresistible.

Controlling an errant sigh, she resisted the urge to tell him what she wanted most in the world. She'd promised herself that she wouldn't do a thing that would give him cause to accuse her of entrapment. Not a thing. Bit keeping him at arm's length was proving to be more difficult than she had anticipated – considering she's just been very, very sick. So she concentrated on food instead. That was a surprise too.

"I'd like a sandwich."

"I can handle that."

"Plain wholemeal bread, no butter," she began. "Pile on the lettuce – not cold from the fridge, get it from the garden. You'll find some I've brought on under a cloche."

"Marron, it's the middle of the night," he protested.

"Is it?" She glanced at the window. "Don't worry, you'll find a torch by the back door."

"Oh, right. No problem, then, "he said, with on the faintest suggestion of irony.

"Then cover the lettuce thickly with mayonnaise – "

"Mayonnaise?" This time he did look concerned. "You're quite sure about that?"

"Mayonnaise," she repeated firmly, "topped with a layer of sliced dill pickle." And she smiled. "That would be perfect."

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Terrific. Morning sickness, closely followed by food fads. All in one evening. He should have listened to the voice of reason and stayed in London, Trunks decided as he toured the pitch black garden looking for lettuce. Except Marron would have been alone when she'd been sick.

There would have been no one to make sure she was all right. No one to call the doctor. Okay, so he'd panicked unnecessarily. But what if it had been something more serious? He wouldn't have been here.

He didn't want to be here.

But as he constructed her nightmare sandwich it occurred to him that there was finally something that he could do to help, something he could organise that would allow him to keep a safe distance between them and at the same time ease his nagging conscience.


End file.
